


killing me softly

by churchdoll (orphan_account)



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sal Fisher and Larry Johnson Are Not Related, Slow Burn, Tourette's Syndrome, Trans Male Character, Trans Sal Fisher
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25340344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/churchdoll
Summary: The moment in which Sal Fisher and Larry Johnson became friends and the instant that Larry realized just how far he'd fallen for the blue-haired boy in only minutes.
Relationships: Sal Fisher/Larry Johnson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	killing me softly

"I'm done unpacking," Sal spoke suddenly, watching with a blank expression as his father tensed up and jolted at his presence. He turned quickly to look at Sal, then sighed with relief.

"You startled me, Sal. You're so quiet!" Henry chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, then wiping the sweat from his forehead. They'd been packing, carrying around boxes, and unpacking all day, Sal noted. His father decided a move would be better for the two of them, to get away from that place. Sal hadn't agreed, but he hadn't disagreed either, staying indifferent as he did to most things. "You're done unpacking? Already?"

"I'm taking a break."

"I see. That's good, then! I should probably take a break, too, we've been at this all day." Henry smiled, crouching down to Sal's height and gently patting him on top of the head. Sal showed no emotion towards this, if he even could, the expression of the prosthetic always bored and unchanging. Henry had brought up the idea of getting Sal a more emotional prosthetic, but the doctors said there was no use for this, and Sal honestly could care less. The prosthetic wasn't supposed to be pretty, it was supposed to hide the truth. Sal's eye twitched, jaw tensed and locked as his body threw a silent fit before he let out a series of noises.

"Do you miss New Jersey?" Sal asked, emotion in his eyes unchanging as his father gave a small frown towards him at the question. He averted his gaze to the ground, focusing on the carpet. He never looked at anyone's eyes or face whilst talking to them, far too afraid of judgement, and far too afraid of what emotions they carry there. His eye twitched, shoulders jolting. He'd been doing that for as long as he could remember, but picked up a popping sound a few weeks ago. It was the most prominent one, a motor tic that ran almost constantly. To prove his point, he popped and then let out a small noise akin to a whine.

"Sure, I do, but this is a chance for a fresh start. I know this place isn't as nice as our old house was, but...things will be different here, Sal." Henry sighed, gently rubbing Sal's shoulder. This answer seemed good enough for Sal, even if it wasn't exactly how he felt, as well. He didn't really miss New Jersey, but it was home, and his mother was there. They'd left his mother, or at least, the memory of her. Henry had told him over and over again that as long as Sal remembered her, she would never leave his side.

Sal couldn't bring himself to forget her after that, even if his memory of her was present only when he was regretting what he had done. He'd lost his mother, and it was his fault.

He missed her.

Sal was overthinking again, which Henry sensed, as he usually did. He never understood much about Sal, but he did what he could to support him, silently. He spoke again, to pull Sal out of his haze. "You should go introduce yourself to your neighbours. Maybe there's some your age! You could make a friend."

The boy pondered this thought for a moment, then nodded. "Okay." He simply stated, this answer being short enough but pleasing to his father. Sal cooed, jerking his head to the side.

"Have fun, kiddo. Try not to get into too much trouble." Henry stood, giving one last smile to Sal before turning back to the boxes he was unpacking. Sal stood still for a moment, then turned on his heels and walked silently out of the room. He closed the door behind him, looking around the living room of their new apartment. This was where they would be living now. It wasn't the greatest, but it wasn't the worst either. Sal was yet again indifferent.

Sal's footsteps were ridiculously quiet on the carpet, and barely made a sound against the tile of the hallway. He was often quiet, not one for being loud or obtrusive, which others had said only added to his chilling appearance. He looked like a psychopath, a killer, someone had said. Michael Myers, another compared. Sal loved horror, though every time he thought about watching one of those movies, he felt like he was being compared to them. A horrific monster, he was glad people couldn't see through his prosthetic. If they could, they probably would've vomited then compared him to the likes of Freddy Krueger. Sal sighed, involuntarily snapping his fingers before sticking his hands in his pockets and glancing around. This floor was quiet, almost too quiet. He walked to the right, pulling his hand out of his pocket to knock on the doors as he went by. No-one answered. He chalked it up to no-one being home, and he hoped that was the truth.

Turning the other way, Sal ran into a police officer standing in front of the door. He looked up to stare at the officer, a man who wouldn't move or even spare him a glance. Perhaps he didn't notice him? Sal was short, and as his father mentioned, very quiet.

"Hello." He said plainly, to gain the attention of the cop, but got nothing in reply. He stared at the officer's stone, unmoving face. Was he sleeping with his eyes open? Henry did that sometimes when he took his sleeping pills and passed out. This man was standing up, though, so there's no way he could've fallen asleep! He then blinked, proving that theory to Sal. "What are you doing?" Sal tried again with a question.

"What does it look like I'm doing? Knitting a fuckin' sweater? I'm doing my job, kid. I'm a cop, so you better show me some respect." The police officer said gruffly, annoyed with Sal's presence already. He must be one of those cops that became sour due to the stress of their job, Sal thought.

"Of course, sir," Sal spoke almost timidly, but his voice was deadpan and soft as usual. 

"That means leave me alone." The police officer said, tightening the arms over his chest and standing up straighter.

"What happened in there?" Sal asked curiously, tilting his head to the side, peeking to behind the policeman where caution tape covered the door that led to an apartment room. The cop finally looked at him, frustrated.

"That's none of your fuckin' business, kid. I said get out of here. Scram!" The man near-yelled, but settled for not disturbing the neighbours. If there even were any, considering how silent this floor was, and how no-one answered the door being knocked on. 

Sal took note of the cop's tone and pose, deciding to retreat and walk away from the scene. Sal stared up and down the elevator, hesitantly walking into it and selecting the next floor down. He didn't spend too much time thinking about it, head jerking harshly to the side as his body appeared to convulse. Others found this weird and disturbing, but no matter how many times he tried, he couldn't suppress them for long. If he could, he'd try to suppress them to make sure they'd never happen in front of anyone else again.

He looked up as the elevator came to a stop, stepping outside as the door opened and looking both directions. There weren't any cops on this floor, but he did notice a lady mopping the floor. Was she the custodian of this place? He walked up to her, and she jumped in surprise before stopping to look at him.

"Oh- hey there! So sorry, you just startled me a little! You're so quiet, you know?"

"I get that a lot."

"I'm sure you do! Anyways, you're one of the new residents, aren't ya? Room 402, isn't it?"

"Yeah. My name is Sal, it's just me and my dad."

"Nice to meet you, Sal! My name's Lisa. A pleasure to meet you! I would've introduced myself to you further, but, I've been quite busy today with everything that's going on."

"No worries."

"I take care of this place, make sure everything's goin' smooth! If you ever need help with anything, don't be a stranger! I'm usually around here, so just come and find me."

"Okay. Thanks."

"Take care!" Lisa bid him goodbye cheerfully, returning to mopping the spot on the floor. Since this floor was being cleaned, he couldn't see if there were anyone else on this floor to introduce himself to. With that in mind, he walked back to the elevator and went down to the next floor.

He decided to veer left first, walking past the first door and knocking on it. No one answered like expected.

Sal's eye twitched, and he managed to force his legs to move down the hall to the next door. He knocked on it, hearing a muffled "come in" from the other side. He was baffled, almost, since no one else in the rooms had greeted him yet. He felt...very anxious. He hadn't interacted with many people that weren't fond of making fun of him, and he was half-afraid this person would be mocking him endlessly. He squinted, cooing and letting out a series of pops and whines. He decided to get it all out before he went in, just so that he could at least try to suppress. He couldn't mess up meeting his neighbours, considering he'd have to see them often.

He cautiously opened the door, stepping inside and instantly feeling the need to vomit. The room had a stench unlike anything else, smelling like sweat, rotting food, and something else that Sal couldn't place. Despite nausea he started experiencing already, he walked into the room fully and closed the door behind him. He looked around before getting startled by someone sitting in a chair a little ways from him. What had he expected? Someone to not be there? He shook this off, the movement of his head making the suppressing of tics a lot harder than he thought it'd be. He twitched, attempting to roll it off casually as being cold.

"Who're you?"

"I'm Sal. I'm new here, and I just wanted to-" He started, then got interrupted by the person in the chair.

"What the Hell is with your face, kid?" The person asked, making Sal tense. He was used to this. He was about to answer before they interrupted again. "Oh, wait! I know! Young teens these days, always looking for new ways to express themselves. I was young myself once, you see, so I get it. Just as long as you're...you know, not in a gang, or a murderer, or anything. You're...not in a gang, are you?"

"No, no! It's nothing like that." Sal found himself answering too quickly, tightening his lips and clenching his teeth to avoid his tics. He was starting to feel the stress and anxiety, doing everything in his power to not let it be incredibly obvious.

"Great! I'm Charley, by the way. As long as you don't touch any of my stuff, I'm sure we'll get along just fine." This person talked a lot. Sal usually didn't mind, but with each syllable on each word, Sal found himself getting antsier and antsier. He had to make this visit as quick as possible. "I'm a collector, you see. I like to collect things. I collect many things, and I think of them as my family. So, if you mess with my collection, you're messing with my family, you see? And I don't take kindly to that, got it?"

"Of course, sir. I won't be giving you any troubles."

"Good."

The conversation ended there, and Sal was more than grateful. He never found himself to be particularly religious, but he was sure that if the conversation continued, he would be praying to whatever God that could hear him "make it end."

He was tempted to leave the apartment right then, but something caught his eye. He looked over at the bookshelves lining the wall. He was naturally a very curious boy, something that he'd been told repeatedly growing up. His curiosity is what gained him the prosthetic he wore, and he had never learned his lesson from that day. The middle bookshelf had all of its capacity filled with figurines. They all looked pony-shaped in some way or another, so Sal assumed they were supposed to be ponies. He leaned forward, staring at them with intensity. They were toys, small, colourful statues, and their painted-on eyes could never judge him. They were inanimate.

"Basking in the glory of my complete set of Glitter Ponies, are you? I don't mind. It is a great accomplishment to own this full set. Please, look all you'd like, but if you dare lay a finger on one of them, you'll regret it." The man didn't look very threatening, especially since he hadn't moved from his position in the entire time Sal had been here. If he weren't talking and blinking, Sal would assume he was either dead or paralyzed. Though, even as this man didn't seem like he had a threatening bone in his body, his words were not empty. They held promise, and they held vow. Sal was entirely sure that if he even thought about doing anything other than looking, something terrible and dreadful would happen.

Still, even with that in mind, Sal didn't hold back. Without a filter, the boy asked,

"What's a Glitter Pony?"

Instantly, Sal felt eerie dread. He tensed up, body twitching involuntarily. He had tried to stop it, but Charley didn't look even slightly affected by the movement. Instead, his eyes were open, unblinking, staring dead into nothing. He looked shocked, completely terrified, even as his expression hadn't changed any. Sal had asked an innocent question, or so he thought, yet Charley looked as if Sal had just offended everything about him.

The silence and stillness were deafening. It was horrifying, and Sal wanted to interrupt it, make it stop.

"You...have you never seen...my God, child! You've _never_ seen only the GREATEST Television series to be produced? You've not once laid your eyes upon _'My Glitter Ponies: Rainbow Spectacular?'_ Where are your parents?! How could they betray you like this?" Charley cried, moving for the first time in what seemed to be forever, leaning forward with conviction.

"It's got drama! It's got action! Romance! Comedy! Everything you could ever want, ever ask for in a Television series!" He spoke as if he were praising the Lord itself, preaching like a priest would on Sunday. "And the _ponies!_ My God, don't even get me _started_ on the _ponies!_ Mmm, yeah. Gorgeous!" He finally stopped, but Sal was sure if he didn't speak, the man would continue about the ponies he mentioned.

"Um...I guess I just happened to miss that one." Sal said, standing up straight and awkwardly swaying. "I'll have to look for it on TV. Thanks for the recommendation."

"Yes, you will! You have to! Trust me, you won't regret it at all."

Sal went completely quiet, giving one last glance to the many pony figurines on the shelf. His eye twitched, and he was ignoring the urge to tug at his hair. This room continued to make him feel easy. He should leave, bid his departure to Charley and never come in here again. He hoped he'd never have to see Charley again, but he wouldn't count on it.

"Yep, I know. You're speechless. You've never seen such an awesome collection! I am very prideful in it." Charley said without missing a beat, leaning back into his chair to be in the same position he was in when Sal had entered. 

"Yeahhh..." Sal rubbed the back of his neck, looking off to the side and everywhere else but the pony collection and Charley. His throat felt dry and swallowing hurt. He nearly forgot how to swallow at first, feeling as if he'd choke on not having any air. He had to get out of here.

"Don't worry. Any time that I'm home, you can stop by and take it all in again." Charley sounded confident, and Sal wanted nothing more than to vomit. 

"Do you...happen to live alone?" This came out like an insult, and it was partially supposed to be one. Sal was tempted to take it back, though Charley answered before he could.

"Alone? Hah! Look around you! I have all the company I could ever need, right here." Charley said, then scratched at his arm. "Well, I suppose that it's...nice to have a visitor, now and then..."

Neither of their expressions changed, Sal's because it couldn't, and Charley's because he just didn't seem to have the energy to do so. Sal felt awkward about leaving now, but the discomfort was heavy. A voice telling him to get out of there was ringing clear in his ears.

"I should be going. I'm supposed to greet everyone." Sal said abruptly, turning on his heels to exit without even waiting for Charley to say something.

"Bye." It was all that Charley said, and Sal couldn't muster up the courage to return the sentiment before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. Once the door was closed and he was sure Charley couldn't hear him, he let out a large sigh of relief. His lungs sobbed with satisfaction, as he finally could take in a breath of fresh air. The stench of that room had been suffocating. Sal hoped he'd never have to smell anything so terrible ever again, gently rubbing his chest to beg forgiveness from his lungs for making them suffer like that. 

He wanted this to all be over with. He walked to the elevator, stepping inside and pressing the button to take him to the floor below this floor. It was the main one, the floor in which Sal had no idea why anyone would want to live on. Weren't the first floors of apartments always the most dangerous ones? He didn't entertain the thought, 

"Woah, how frightful- oh, excuse me, hey there! Cool mask, kid. You look like Michael Myers." The person said, their eyes being the only visible part about them, making them seem like just a disembodied head. The words on the door atop the mail slot read "Addison," and Sal could only assume this was the owner of the apartments.

"It's not a mask."

"Oh, pardon me. Rough meeting. Let's start over." The mail slot closed, then a couple of seconds went by before it opened again. "Hello there, young sir, a new resident of Addison Apartments, room 402. How can I help you?"

"You know who I am?"

"Of course I do! I know everything that goes on around here. You'll do good to remember that."

Sal went quiet, except for the popping noise that came out that he tried so hard to suppress. He couldn't see Mr Addison's face, but he was sure that if he could, there would be confusion there. He twitched, the stress of the situation making his tics more apparent. The person in the apartment said nothing, commenting none, much to Sal's surprise. He decided not to dwell on it.

"Can I come in?"

"Absolutely _not_! I don't like germs, you see, and I'm sure you're carrying a ton! No offence, of course. I also like to keep my privacy, surely you understand." Sal couldn't see Addison's hands, but he was sure that there was a vague gesture to his prosthetic.

"None taken. I understand."

"You're quite the polite young thing, aren't you?"

"I suppose."

Mr Addison giggled in delighted glee. He liked Sal already, such a weird disposition for a kid.

"Well, uh...goodbye, then."

"Farewell! Come by anytime! I'm always here!" With that, the mail slot closed and Mr Addison disappeared. Sal had a sinking feeling that Mr Addison was still by the door, but he didn't question it further. He shrugged it off, turning to continue walking down the hall. He paused to jerk his body to the side, raising his arm and snapping his fingers right next to his ear. He winced at the noise, figuring it was his body getting back at him for holding it all in. _Just stick out a little longer. Soon, we'll be done socializing, and I won't have to deal with this anymore._ Sal told himself, inhaling deeply and walking to the next door. He knocked on it, bracing himself for someone to allow him to enter, but no one did. He felt relief wash over him, but he noticed someone standing outside, so he continued walking. 

It was another police officer, Sal assumed by the uniform. This one looked like a detective, though.

"Good evening. I take it you're the one who just moved in today?"

"Yes, sir."

"I already spoke with your father, and he had an alibi that checked out. Seems you two were out of the state when everything went down last night." The man said, writing something down onto his notepad, then looked down at Sal. "Try not to get in our way for now. We're investigating a serious crime. You're cleared, don't worry, but if you get in the way, we'd have to stop to deal with that."

Sal nodded, his body twitching. He didn't want to get in the way, but he was very much curious.

"Was it murder?" He asked, hoping the detective might provide more answers than the other cop had. 

"I can't talk to you about that." The detective said plainly. Sal had expected that, so he didn't press further.

"Okay. Bye, then."

"So long."

Sal turned and walked down the hall in the opposite direction. These were the last two doors on this floor, which meant he had no-one else to visit. Finally, he wasn't sure how much more socializing he could take. He knocked on the first one with no reply then knocked on the next one. A woman opened the door slightly, enough to see half of her body, but not the rest of it. Sal didn't get much of a glance, but he could tell the lady was dressed...quite improperly. 

"Yeah, what do you want? Weird time to have a costume on, as it's a little early for trick-or-treat season, ain't it?" She said, and her voice reminded Sal of a witch. She didn't give him much time to reply before she slammed the door in his face. "Stupid child. Good-for-nothin' kids..." Sal could hear the lady grumble behind the door, and he figured it would be best not to disturb her further. 

Sal retreated to the elevator, moving to press the button to the 4th floor, but paused. He didn't want to talk to anyone else today, but...Lisa was nice. She had something about her that was so refreshing and made Sal feel...a lot safer. Paying her another visit surely couldn't be all that bad, right? Once she brightened up his mood, he'd go back to his apartment and finish unpacking. He hoped to get everything unpacked by tonight, as sleeping on the floor didn't seem so ideal. He pressed the button to the 3rd floor, popping and then letting out something small and high-pitched that sounded like "woo!" As the elevator opened, he stepped out and walked up to Lisa.

"Hey, Lisa."

"Oh, hi Sal! What's up?"

"I just...wanted to ask...how long have you been working here?"

Lisa let out a laugh, one that sounded warm, and inviting. She smiled at him, then shook her head. "I don't just work here. I live here, too! I'm on call 24/7 if I'm needed for any urgent maintenance." She explained, her mopping coming to a halt. "Despite what you may hear from the other residents, this place is quite lovely. I have lived here for...going on 10 years now? I've not had a single complaint. I'm happy to call it my home!" She hummed, quite enthusiastic about the building. She took a lot of pride in it.

"It...seems nice. What do others say about the building?"

"Oh, ya betchya!" She tapped her finger against her chin, giving the question some thought before answering. "All kinds of things, I'm sure of it. This building is quite old, going on well over a hundred by now. People always have something to complain about, one way or another. Though, you'll never hear any complainin' from me! I'm a woman of action! If I've got a problem, well damn, I'll fix it myself!"

"Yeah...most people do seem to complain a lot, mostly about small things."

"Ya can't sweat the small stuff, Sal. It ain't never done anyone anything good! I just don't think it's any way to live, yunno?" She hummed, moving her hands around a lot to convey her words. She showed a lot of emotion on her face, though Sal didn't look at it, judging by what he could see in the corner of his eye. "Take it from me! You focus on the good stuff, the stuff that makes ya happy. Don't be too concerned about what others think about it. Put your energy into that. You only have one life, better not waste it."

Lisa's voice sounded inspirational, speaking from the heart. Sal was sure she could uplift anyone she talked to, as it even started working on him quite a bit. Perhaps, he could take her advice one of these days.

"You're right about that," Sal stated blandly. He'd never really been too good at conversation, most people having to carry it when they talked to him. It wasn't too hard since he asked a lot of questions, but conversations tended to end prematurely with him a lot of the time. "Is there anything to do around here? Like, for fun?" He asked, wanting to keep it going as much as possible, and Lisa seemed to appreciate it. She looked like the type who could talk to anyone and spent most of her time doing so.

"Oh, many things! But, ya know what? I have a son around your age. I think you two would get along great!" She said, looking all too pleased to introduce Sal to her son. Sal had the impression that her son didn't have many friends, judging by that, and the thought made him feel less alone. "He's downstairs in our apartment. You should go introduce yourself! I'm very sure he'd love that."

Lisa reached into her pocket, pulling out a card and reaching it out for him to take it. "You'll need a key card to access it from the elevator. Take this one! I've got a few extras."

"Cool, thanks. I'll go say hi."

"Great! His name is Larry, and he's probably in his room. Tell him I sent ya!"

Sal nodded, ready to bid his departure, then decided against it. A question came into mind, and he wanted to ask it first.

"Do you um...know anything about what happened in 403?"

Lisa's expression dropped, and she didn't look so happy anymore. Sal immediately felt bad, wanting to retract that question, hating the look of sadness she gave him. 

"Oh, dear...it's quite a shame. You and your dad must have an awful first impression of this place. I promise things aren't typically so...gruesome and dark around here. Poor Mrs Sanderson..."

"Who's Mrs Sanderson?"

"Oh, nevermind that, hon. Best not set your mind onto such dreadful things."

Sal nodded, agreeing with that sentiment. He normally thought of such dark things, shuddering as he nearly started losing himself in the thought of what happened all those years ago.

"Is this place haunted?" He asked abruptly, wanting to do whatever possible to change the subject. 

"Sal, sweetie...I've been taking care of the Addison Apartments for a very long time and I've _never_ seen even a glimpse of a ghost or a goblin." She chuckled, her face brightening up again. Sal relaxed, though not without twitching and making a popping noise. Lisa didn't comment, thankfully. "Anyone who tells you anything about that just has an overactive imagination. Too many sweets and scary movies, if you ask me."

"Thanks. I should be going now."

"See ya around!" Lisa beamed, returning to mopping as Sal turned and walked away. This Larry kid...Sal hoped they'd like each other. If his mom was any indication, Sal knew he'd like him, but he couldn't help but feel a pang of fear at meeting him. Kids Sal's age had never been nice to him, and this would probably end the same way as it always did.

Sal inserted the keycard and pressed the button that would take him to the basement. He looked around the room, observing the way everything was placed. The basement in his old house didn't look anything like this, but that was probably because that was a house and not an apartment building. He looked around on the shelves and around the washing and drying machine. There was only one of each and quite a lot of tenants here. That...didn't make a ton of sense. None at all.

"Gee...I sure am looking forward to using these... _not._ "

He walked around to the other side, tilting his head at a vending machine. All of the junk food in it looked delicious, but he wasn't hungry right now, and there was no use wasting any money on it. He noticed the door that was no doubt the apartment that Lisa told him about. He walked over, hesitantly putting a hand on the doorknob. Could he just walk in? Should he? Lisa probably wouldn't mind, but Larry might. He took a deep breath, then pushed it open. He expected it to be locked, but when it pushed open with ease, he nearly fell over in surprise. 

He didn't spend too much time looking around the apartment. He was curious, but he wasn't someone who invaded privacy and space just to settle his curiosity. He stopped in front of the door with a bright red "KEEP OUT!" sign on it, feeling anxiety overtake him. He didn't like the colour red, and he didn't like the obtrusive lettering on the sign. It was so bright and bold, and it hurt his eyes to look at. Nevertheless, he knocked.

"Yeah?" Someone said, and Sal felt like he could die right there. Actually, no, he hoped he would. Please, God, angels, Satan, anyone just end it right now before he made a fool of himself.

"Hey...uh, Larry, is it? Your mom said to um...come and say hi." Sal said, swallowing and then clearing his throat. He didn't speak very loudly, so he hoped that Larry heard him. "I just moved in...room 402."

"Oh, hey. Yeah, just come in. Door's open."

Sal turned the doorknob and stepped into the room. Instantly, the smell of the room hit him. Though, it wasn't anything like Charley's apartment. The smell was...pleasant? It reminded him of pine from a forest, and cinnamon from freshly baked rolls. He also smelled paint, which was quite pleasant. He'd never been to an art studio, but he imagined it'd smell like this. It was quite relaxing.

He walked into the room hesitantly despite the welcoming feel it had. He noticed a boy sitting down on the floor, sifting through cassette tapes upon cassette tapes. Sal didn't own many of those, but this boy happened to own a ton of them. An entire collection! He instantly shook his head, the word 'collection' now having a negative connotation to it that made him feel uneasy. He looked up, though didn't jolt back in fear or surprise at seeing Sal. Of course, though, why would he? Sal had knocked, so Larry was expecting him to come in.

"Woah, nice mask," Larry said, standing up. He was...a lot taller than Sal had expected him to be. It was almost intimidating. Sal stayed silent for a moment, twitching in place.

"It's...a prosthetic." He said plainly.

"Oh, shit. Sorry man."

"It's cool. I'm used to...much worse by now." Sal's tone was anxious, and he gently rubbed at his arm to comfort himself before speaking again. "I'm glad you like it, though. A lot of people say it's weird, or creepy."

"It's not weird at all! But, man, I gotta ask...do you like, just...have no face under there, or something? What happened?! Is it surgically attached to you?"

"I'd...rather not talk about that."

"Okay, understood. Well, uh, change of subject, then." Larry said quickly, rushing his words as if he were afraid he just made the worst impression known to mankind. "I'm Larry. I live down here with my mom. Though, I'm sure you know that already."

Sal nodded. "I'm Sal. My friends call me Sally Face. I just moved here with my dad from New Jersey."

"Jersey, huh? You don't have much of an accent."

"Yeah, a lot of people say that when they find out. It's just my voice, I guess."

"I see." Larry popped out a cassette tape from the player, putting another one in its place. "Sally Face?"

"Yeah. I guess I didn't really have the best of friends, to be honest. So, once they started calling me that, I figured if I just started using the nickname for myself, the assholes couldn't use it against me anymore."

"You're a...pretty complicated dude, aren't ya, Sal? You're pretty strange. I like you already. We're gonna get along great!"

"Your mom said that, too."

"Mother knows best."

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is full of self-protection onto Sal. as a result, Sal is trans, tics a lot, and anxiety has become a physical form and replaced his brain. so, this might make him OOC, but I've tried to keep his personality as intact as possible. it's very hard for me to write his tics, as I can't really observe myself, and I don't have any friends who struggle with it. if you have any suggestions on how to write it better, feel free to tell me!
> 
> also, yes, this first chapter is basically a rewrite of the first scenes in the game. I wrote it like this for plot reasons, as it becomes a lot more important than you'd think. it's canon-divergent, so Sal and Larry helping in the solving of Mrs Sanderson's murder aren't actually that important, but they'll happen anyway
> 
> this fic doesn't have a schedule and will update whenever I have a chance to write it!


End file.
